Page 21 of Zeppelin
Or at least, all the small stuff is monumental to me.
I have no idea if she knows it, or if she has any idea how much I appreciate it.Idon’t even fully know. No one likes change. People want to feel safe in who they are, but it’s becoming clearer to me that the person I was before wasn’t safe. I thought I was home, but being entrenched in something, in the middle of it, doesn’t make a place home. It doesn’t make people truly yours if you don’t know yourself and you’re not giving anything back.
Loneliness doesn’t have to come from being alone.
I thought that after Jack died, my life was over in just about every way. I thought I’d be a shell of nothingness. Jack leaving my life was a new beginning. I didn’t want it. I still wish he was here beside me with every fiber of my being. I don’t want to undo how much I’ve changed or the new way I’ve started to think and to see the world.
The only problem is that I’m starting to want something I can never have.
I can’t let family, trust, friendship, and affection turn into anything more.
I roll up the drawing, then arrange my vest carefully over the back of a chair, stroking the leather with reverence. “Sure. I can let you know if I need anything at all.”
As I walk out of the kitchen to give myself space, to march my ass outside to cool the hell down physically and mentally, I know that’s not true. It can’t be anything at all, and I have to make peace with that.
Chapter 7
Ginny
Idon’t know how it happened, but one minute I was in the kitchen peeling potatoes, making bread, prepping a salted ham, and struggling to get the stove to the right temperature without smoking myself out of the house in the process, and the next I stepped outside to check on Zeppelin because I realized that it had been over an hour and I hadn’t heard a single sound out there, only to step straight out into a wall of humidity and mounting dark clouds that signal we’re in for a banger of a storm.
Tornadoes might be uncommon in Washington State, but they’re not unheard of. Large hail, crazy downpours, and lightning strikes aren’t anything to trifle with, even if the clouds don’t decide they want to drop a funnel cloud from hell down on top of us.
I fly over the decrepit porch, leaping over two boards that I know for sure are dicey.
“Zeppelin?” The thick humidity crawls down my throat as I call out his name. It’s eerily still. No wind. Just moist, hot air, perfect for a summer storm. “Zeppelin!” I don’t mean to sound frantic, but my voice breaks at the end.
He appears, racing around the house like he expects a whole band of marauders to have just landed in my front yard.
I come to a full stop. My hands fly to my hair. I make a production of smoothing the frizz, like that was the whole issue. “Hey. Sorry. It looks wicked out here. Like something could dropout of the sky at any time. I don’t want you working outside if it’s hailing or if there’s lightning. That’s dangerous.”
“I was just measuring all the boards, working out what I’m going to need and marking everything. I thought it would make cutting easier when I do it. I noticed your dad left the shed stocked with tools.”
“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I should have told you that. Yes, he did. The saw and the drills and everything. When I told him you wanted to help me out with the porch and windows, he made sure that I was all set up and ready to go. The tools are mostly all spares. He has full sets for full sets and replacements for those too. Living out in the farm, it’s a long run to the city, so you’re either over-prepared or making the drive.”
I’m rambling. Zeppelin stands there and listens like he’s fascinated.
“Do you have any of the tools out right now?”
“Not yet.” He points to his leather belt where the tape measure sits hooked on the side. My eyes slowly drift from there to the big metal buckle on the front in the shape of an eagle. It’s worn in and shiny in spots. I haven’t seen him wear it before, but it’s clear that he has.
A massive clap of thunder booms out of nowhere. It’s almost literally ear-splitting
Zeppelin closes the distance, he puts his hands on my shoulders and spins me around, looming over me like he plans to shield me from the wrath of nature with just his body alone.
Suddenly, it smells like rain. A gust of wind blows past us, picking up out of nowhere. It’s all sure signs that we’re going toget hit with a storm, though it will probably be brief as it passes through.
For just an instant, I’m surrounded by a wall of muscle. The scent of leather and gas, spearmint chewing gum, sharp cloves and manly cologne. A sharp, almost feral hunger claws at my belly, striking my breath right out of my lungs.
I don’t have time to process any of that. Zeppelin wraps his arm around my waist and hurries me through the yard. He takes care with the porch, stepping in front of me to test the boards so that if they break, he’s the one who falls through. Satisfied with his path, he reaches back for me. I slot my hand in his, lightning and heat exploding in my stomach as soon as our fingertips make contact.
I step back into the house after him, closing the door and sliding the new deadbolt lock my dad installed into place, like that’s going to keep us safe above anything else.
I keep my back turned for a second, doing what I guess could be called collecting myself. It would make sense, given that I lost my mind back there for a few seconds. I’ve found it again, and now that my brain is properly processing, I know I have two choices. Live in denial, or admit to myself that I’m dealing with a physical attraction that’s impossible to ignore. It’s not fleeting. Appropriate or not, it’s real.
I might be able to admit it to myself, but knowing what to do about is something else. I shove it to the back of my mind for now and lunge for my phone. I’m greeted by a red warning banner across the top of my weather app as soon as I open it. I quickly shut it off and stuff the phone back into my pocket.
The cookstove has made it ridiculously hot. It’s not like I can just shut it off, but I do grab oven mitts and hot pads andmove all the pots over to the table. Everything was pretty much done, including the ham.
